Chapter Fifteen
The Saturday Night Fever Goblin Scuffle

His name was Barry Smells Plenty for obvious reasons, and he decided not to kill me—at least not yet. He preferred to perform a kick-ball-change dance step and punt me in the chin dressed in . . . wow. Can you say time warp? Barry wore a cheesy black silk shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, a white vest, bell-bottom slacks, and a jacket.
He stamped out the funky chicken next to my bed, then woke me from my awful nightmare with another glossy leather loafer to the forehead. “Let’s go, dummy,” he said. “Get down on the dance floor and ring my bell.”
“Ouch,” I protested.
The goblin even lunged like a disco dancer with his legs spread apart and his finger pointed toward the sky. I kept waiting for a mirrored disco ball to slide …show more content…
“Now why would anyone toss out a perfectly good jar of pickled eyeballs?”
He sloshed down the marshy shore, waded through the silver water, and retrieved a bottle floating on the surface. Soon he was popping the big eyeballs into his mouth like M&M candies.
Barry cracked his knuckles. “Why do I always get stuck with the losers?” He scattered the magic powder and smoothed his dark silk shirt over his rounded belly, taking me in like a juicy T-bone steak. “Do you want to bump him off? We could gobble him up and tell Thorn that we lost him in the woods or something.”
Lester seemed to find the idea of gnawing on my bones hilarious. He doubled over and roared with laughter.
“Why is that funny?” Barry asked, glaring at him.
His smiled faded, and he stood there like a dope in a saggy diaper.
Barry pushed me into the brook—just like the goblin in my dream—and I landed with a splash. “Now that’s funny.” Wicked laughter erupted among my captors. “Move it, dork.”
I searched the water for a sharks and pulled up river grass instead.
“Move it,” Barry barked again.
I plodded forward, figuring that in a few more hours I’d be